National Anthem
by yellowshiningstars
Summary: When Charles finds himself King sooner than expected, he and Molly find themselves in the ruthless royal world. But how will they cope with the challenges thrown at them and, more importantly, will they do it together or alone? AU.
1. Chapter 1 - National Anthem

**Hi Guys!**

 **I'm back! How I have missed you all :( I just finished my GCSEs ... yay! Seems like yesterday I was writing to tell you all that I had to revise for my mocks. Now all I have to do is wait for Results Day aha :P Anyway, I promise to finish OCC but this idea came into my head in the middle of exam season and I've been so excited to write it since. I've never done an AU before and so I apologise if this is completely and utterly dire. At least I'm giving it a shot! I've always been interested in the British Royal Family and the Kennedy Family (who are pretty much US royalty) and so you might recognise some of the features of this story. I also only noticed this morning that CJ would be known as 'Prince Charles'... oops! Anyways, enough rambling. I hope you enjoy! :)**

 **P.S. In terms of context, the events of Our Girl had happened at this point except Charles' marriage. As unlikely as it is for the Heir to the Throne to be allowed such a role in the Army at such a high level of risk, remember that this is only fanfiction! ;)**

 **Love,**

 **Sarah x**

 **Chapter 1 - National Anthem**

* * *

 _He will do very well, I can tell._

 _\- 'National Anthem' - Lana Del Rey_

* * *

Prince Charles James couldn't identify what had woken him from his sleep. Struggling to open his eyes, he snuck a glance at his bedside table which held his alarm clock.

4:15am.

The green digits taunted him as he moaned with disgust. Settling himself down again, he glanced over at the sleeping frame of Molly Dawes. Or should he say; Molly James. Pulling her closer to him, he wrapped his arms around her sleeping frame and smiled to himself. Planting a light kiss on her forehead, he snuggled into her and closed his eyes again. He still couldn't believe that they were now married. In fact, he was pretty sure that most of his family couldn't either. Don't get them wrong, they adored had Molly and were delighted when Charles had announced his engagement, but they came from completely different worlds. He had grown up in a Royal household - his father was King, and had been for just over thirty years, reigning alongside his mother up until her death. Molly, on the other hand, was deemed a 'commoner'.

After that crucially pivotal day in Afghanistan, and the subsequent consequences, his father had decided that it was best for Charles to take a step back from the frontline. After all, he was an only child and therefore the second in line to the throne. More importantly, King Edward couldn't handle any more sadness in his life after losing his wife to suicide the year previous to Charles being shot. Knowing that it was for the best, Charles eventually agreed.

But Molly couldn't. Three years after their first, and only, tour together, Molly had remained in the Army as a medic before transitioning into becoming a nurse. They had continued their relationship in private until Charles decided to ask Molly the question he had housed at the back of his mind since that life changing tour. He was nervous about asking her, terrified even, and deep down he would've understood if she had run off. Molly wasn't made for this 'spectacle'. Charles didn't really think he was either, always feeling a longing for normality since he was a boy, which partly led to him joining the army. In short, he was asking her to give up everything she had worked for and to join him as his wife, to be the future Queen of the United Kingdom. Ideally, she would be expected to give up her job and partake in royal activities, inviting the eyes of the world into the life that Charles had tried so hard to shelter her from. But for some reason ... she said _yes_.

They had been married two months ago in a ceremony watched by 300 million people worldwide and the thousands gathered on the streets. He could remember the pride he felt the day he and Molly held a press conference to announce their engagement. The cameras were getting their first official photos of the couple and, glancing down at Molly, he looked at her as if to say 'She's mine and I love her'. She was his. Despite the treacherousness of royal life, and the messed up family history he had, she loved him too. And that, in many ways, was so much more important and better than the prospect of one day being King.

 _Knock Knock._

That's what it was. Sitting himself up with a yawn of annoyance, he switched on his bedside lamp. Molly stirred beside him and mumbled, "What is it, Charlie?".

"Shh, go back to sleep. I'll go and see." He kissed her on the cheek and pulled the covers up over her even further before climbing out of bed himself.

"I'm coming!" He said quietly. Opening the doors, he was greeted by Qaseem, his personal aide since he came to the UK after British withdrawal from the country he had once loved so much until it had taken from him everything and everyone he loved.

"I'm sorry to disturb you at such an unGodly hour, Your Royal Highness, but I'm afraid I have no other choice." Charles could detect a sadness in his friend's eyes, a sadness that he could tell he was trying extremely hard to hide. But he knew him too well. "May we take this to the living room?"

Suddenly Charles could feel that something wasn't right. Trying to hide the panic he was sure was evident all over his face, he nodded and followed Qaseem.

* * *

Charles took a seat on the sofa of the living room of his quarters. He couldn't remember what exactly Qaseem had said, or how he had worded it, but he remembered nodding his head to dismiss him as he felt the lump rise in his throat. His vision was blurred from unshed tears and all he wanted to do was get out. Knowing that doing so would be more hassle than it was worth, he sat in the silence of his living quarters and stared out the window as time passed without his knowledge and interest.

His dad was gone.

'That's it,' he thought, 'that's what he said.'

" _I'm so sorry, Charles. King Edward has died_." He was bowed down before him and was crouching at eye level to Charles when he said it _._

He had known, deep inside of him, that something was wrong. Qaseem would never get him out of bed at such an hour no matter what had happened. He had known. He sat silently cursing himself, wishing that he had shut the door on Qaseem and gone back to bed, pretending that none of this had ever happened. But no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't.

* * *

Before he knew it, Molly came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She planted a kiss to his cheek guiltily, filled with worry about the realisation that Charles hadn't came back to bed two hours ago. In the darkness of the room, she crouched down in front of Charles and looked at him. In the faint light coming from the sunrise through the blinds, she could make out his soft features. His gaze was dangerous and he was rocking himself back and forth. She could tell he was close to tears and he looked deathly pale.

"What is it, Charles?" Molly said quietly as he reached her hand up to touch his cold cheek, not missing the dark circles under his eyes which marked both his physical and mental tiredness. When he didn't answer, she asked him the question again. When he didn't respond, Molly followed his gaze to a picture frame that contained a picture of him and his dad on their wedding day. Both were smiling with a level of happiness Charles didn't think he would ever see from his dad again after losing his mum. "Charles?"

After a minute Charles slowly lowered his gaze to look at her after having stared at the same spot for two hours. She could see the tears threatening to spill over out from his eyes so she took his hand in hers and kissed his knuckles. She had never seen him like this, this vulnerable, before. "Please tell me." She whispered.

Finally meeting her eyes, he swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke in a barely audible voice. As soon as he said it, Molly wished she could delete the words and their meaning. She wanted to take away his pain with everything she had. Finally processing what he had said, she took him in her arms as he broke down in tears of grief-stricken sadness, every sob like a bullet going ruthlessly through Molly's heart.

 _"I'm now the King of the United Kingdom."_

* * *

 **Well there you go! I'm not completely happy with this chapter but hopefully the rest will be better. I'm so excited to write this story and I'd love to know what you all think. Please leave a review to let me know if you're interested. And I promise to catch up with everyone's amazing stories soon! Thank you! Xo**


	2. Chapter 2 - An Irish Airman

**Hi Guys!**

 **Thank you for all of your lovely feedback on Chapter 1! I'm so glad that you liked it and are as excited about this as I am. Please remember that I've never done an AU before and so I'm trying as hard as possible to keep this accurate but also entertaining. Did you all hear about series 2? I am so excited! I'll definitely miss Molly Dawes but hopefully she will make an appearance ;) Anyways, here is the next chapter. I apologise for the delay as I hoped to get this written sooner but I've quite enjoyed being lazy after working on exams for 6 weeks! I hope you enjoy :)**

 **Love,**

 **Sarah x**

 **Chapter 2 - An Irish Airman**

* * *

 _The years to come seemed waste of breath._

 _\- 'An Irish Airman Foresees His Death' - WB Yeats_

* * *

It had been exactly one week since Charles James had received the news in the early morning that his father had died and he was now King of the United Kingdom. It had been a week of public appearances, meetings, interviews, media cameras and publicity. In fact, the week had been so jampacked that Molly was worried that Charles was on autopilot and didn't have any time to grieve properly. Despite his reassurance that everything, including himself, was 'fine', she couldn't help but worry about her husband.

He had been lost in thought the whole journey. The crowds of thousands waving the Union Jack and dressed in black had all faded into one massive blur and he gazed out of the window. Every so often Molly would squeeze his hand to offer him comfort and support and he would squeeze back, each squeeze a promise that he was okay.

"Charlie?" She said softly as she moved his hand onto her lap. When he didn't answer, she turned herself from looking out the window and waving softly to the crowds and looked right at him. He looked exhausted. She took in his untamed thick curls and pale complexion, matched with bags under his eyes and a worry line she had never noticed before on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing his decorated military jacket along with smart black trousers and shoes. "Charlie?" Molly tried again.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting when she looked at him but that wasn't what she had expected, or had wanted, to see. Charles looked at her with the expression of a young boy who was deeply lost and troubled. His eyes appeared vacant and he looked like he wasn't fully there. The longer she looked at him the more she felt her heart break.

When he had turned to look at her, he realised that this was the first time in days he had properly looked at her. He had been so busy during the days that he returned home late at night, only seeing her in the darkness of their bedroom with the bedside table lamp the only source of light. He took in her brown hair styled in its natural curls, her natural looking makeup and also her pained expression. He knew she was worried about him. Hell, he was worried about himself. But some part of him wouldn't let him tell her how sad he was ... it didn't feel like something a King could do. He squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips and lightly kissed it as he moved his eyes further down her body. She was wearing a black skater skirt and matching top that she covered with a knee-length black trenchcoat along with her black tights and heels. Had he felt that he had enough strength, and that this was the right moment, he would have told her she looked breathtakingly beautiful.

"I'm okay. I promise." He smiled, but Molly noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes. She looked at him carefully and had opened her mouth to say something when their driver interrupted.

"We're almost there, your Royal Highness. Qaseem will be standing at the doors of St George's Chapel to walk you both in. Security have kept the cameras back a few metres."

"Thank you." Charles nodded as he looked again out the window. This time, he raised his hand and waved to the mourning crowd and they smiled and waved excitedly back at him.

One minute later, the driver announced that they had arrived and the black car pulled to a halt. Charles took a deep breath and looked at Molly for reassurance.

"Are you ready?" She murmured. He simply nodded, kissed her knuckles again before the door to his side of the car was opened. He waved to the cheering crowds and pulled his jacket tighter around him due to the cold before walking around the other side of the car and opening Molly's door as the designated doorman stepped back at Charles' insistence.

He took her hand and they both walked into the Church, the wave of shouting cameramen and the crowd drowned out by Qaseem who was running Charles through the plan for the funeral. The couple continued to wave and offered a couple of smiles before the doors to the Chapel were shut.

* * *

It was halfway through the service when Charles found himself standing in front of the packed Chapel, aware that his speech was being watched both inside and outside of the Chapel and also worldwide. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat.

"When I was a young boy, I took great interest in the poems that my father would read to me. And, although I was young, he would explain them to me as though I was an equal with him. Among them, his favourite poem was the one I am about to read to you all. I can remember it being read to me and afterwards, in all my innocence, I asked him why that was his favourite. That's when he explained it to me.

Like me, my father was born to be a King of the United Kingdom. It was all he had ever known and it was all he had ever wanted. The poet is telling the story of a pilot who wanted to fight in the First World War not because he was forced to but because he wanted to. He felt alive in those moments and he knew, realistically, that he would die doing the one job he loved more than anything.

When I received the news that the King had passed away I realised that, in many ways, my father was that pilot. I hope you take comfort in the fact that my father died doing the duty he loved more than you can imagine. He was happy. And, like this poem, his legacy is going to live forever. God Save The King."

As the congregation repeated the last sentence, Charles glanced along the front row until his eyes met Molly's. She offered him a small smile and he smiled back before stating to read the poem.

 _"...in balance with this life, this death."_

The congregation applauded as Charles stepped down from the podium and he took his seat again, taking with wife's hand and rubbing his thumb over it softly.

* * *

Royal duties took priority after the funeral and Molly could see her husband gradually becoming more tired as he greeted those he was told to. It was almost ten at night when they were driven through the gates of their new home: Buckingham Palace.

This would be their first night sleeping in the Palace as the reigning couple and Molly looked out the window in awe. She had taken off her coat in the car on the way home and Charles had swapped his military uniform for a simple white shirt and black overcoat. Both were extremely overwhelmed after the day they had endured.

The guards opened their car doors when the car stopped and Charles quickly walked around to Molly's side and placed his palm on the small of her back, a comforting gesture to guide her. She smiled at the staff who had gathered to meet them while Charles simply nodded as they saluted or curtseyed.

"Your Royal Highnesses! Welcome to Buckingham Palace. Your quarters are ready for you if you would both like to follow me." Qaseem gave them the friendliest smile that he could, aware that both were exhausted and emotional.

Upon reaching the quarters, both were already yawning and were struggling to keep their eyes open. Qaseem nodded at the guards who opened the doors to their new home as Charles smiled tiredly and muttered his thanks.

Both were too tired to take a proper look around the place so Qaseem decided to make this as short as possible. "There's somebody I'd like you both to meet."

Charles sighed. "Another?"

Qaseem chuckled and guided them into the kitchen of their quarters where a woman was standing in a black dress and apron. "Charles, Molly, I'd like to introduce you to Rebecca, your new housekeeper."

* * *

 **Hehe! I couldn't resist not including her. I wonder what she'll be up to in this story? Again, thank you for your lovely reviews and if you have time, feel free to leave another! It is comforting to read how people are responding to your work and it's the only way of knowing if you're keeping people interested. I hope you all have a lovely summer :) Thank you! Xo**


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